


Cheer At Your Own Risk

by Gobayern16



Series: Star Wars Whumptober 2020 [28]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Fox being a little shit, HAC - Healthy Adult Conversation, Hurt Fox, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, Mugging, Podfic Welcome, Swearing, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27246691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gobayern16/pseuds/Gobayern16
Summary: “Hey, Rex. Sorry I’m late.”Rex gapes at Fox in horror, rendered speechless by his cousin’s appearance. There’s blood down the side of Fox’s face, his eye swollen shut. He’s hunched over slightly, arm protectively wrapped around his ribs, his clothes dirty and bloodstained.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & CT-7567 | Rex
Series: Star Wars Whumptober 2020 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948018
Comments: 7
Kudos: 95
Collections: Captain Rex Stuff, Commander Fox, PurpleNightwing Star Wars





	Cheer At Your Own Risk

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Whumptober Prompt #28: Such wow. Many normal. Very oops - Mugged  
> Thank you to the wonderful RogueLadyVader for beta-ing!
> 
> Fox is roughly 24-25 years old, Rex 16-17 years old.

Rex checks his phone for the umpteenth time in the last twenty minutes, frowning when the display remains stubbornly blank.

Fox promised to walk to his place so they could go to the soccer game together, but he’s half an hour late and isn’t responding to Rex’s texts or calls.

Unease starts pooling in Rex’s gut the longer his cousin remains unreachable. Fox is an extremely punctual person; on the few occasions he  _ was _ late? He  _ always _ texted. 

Rex pulls his phone out again, pulls up his thread with Fox. He hesitates, then hits call.

“Hi, you’ve reached Fox Fett. I can’t come to the phone right now—”

Rex ends the call, heart sinking at getting the voicemail yet again. Just like the last six times.

He chews on his lip, considering his options. Cody is having a date night with Obi-Wan and would come if called, but Rex is loath to interrupt his brother’s precious time with his boyfriend; he gets so little of it as it is.

Wolffe is on a stakeout and can’t do anything without evidence of some sort, much as he would like to pretend otherwise. And Colt has his hands full with his newest foster child.

He checks his phone again; forty minutes and still no message.

Rex scrolls to Cody’s contact, pauses, finger hovering over the call button.

_ I’m overreacting. Fox just forgot his phone and went back to get it. _ But Rex can’t convince himself. Some gut instinct tells him something is wrong.

Three sharp knocks on the front door yank his attention from his phone. He strides over, peeks through the peephole, then rushes to open the door. 

“Hey, Rex. Sorry I’m late.”

Rex gapes at Fox in horror, rendered speechless by his cousin’s appearance. There’s blood down the side of Fox’s face, his left eye swollen shut. He’s hunched over slightly, arm protectively wrapped around his ribs, clothes dirty and bloodstained.

Rex finally finds his voice when Fox shifts, his face distorting in a grimace.

“Sorry you’re—what the hell happened to you, Fox?” He grabs him, pulls him across the threshold into the apartment. Fox hisses at the abrupt movement, stumbling into him. 

“Shit, Fox. Do I need to take you to the hospital?” Rex is extremely worried; Fox is one of the toughest people he knows, so for him to be so open about his pain? It bodes ill. 

“No hospital,” Fox grunts, straightening up. He winces, one hand going to his ribs again. “‘S just bruising and some cuts. Ice, bandaids, and ibuprofen, and I’ll be good as new.”

“If you say so.” Rex eyes him dubiously. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He ducks under Fox’s arm, curls his own around Fox’s waist. “And you can tell me what the  _ fuck _ happened.” Stress sharpens his tone.

Fox groans in pain as Rex guides them towards the bathroom. “Just some idiots who didn’t like my jersey. Took offense that I wasn’t rootin’ for the home team.” Fox sighs in relief as Rex lowers him onto the closed toilet seat.

Rage bubbles up inside Rex.  _ How dare those bastards hurt Fox! All he did was show support for his favorite soccer team!  _ Anger turns to guilt.  _ It’s my fault he got attacked. I’m the one who wanted to go to the game. _ A light touch to his hand pulls him out of his dark thoughts. 

“Rex, it’s fine.  _ I’m _ fine.” At Rex’s disbelieving look, Fox amends his statement. “I’m  _ gonna be _ fine. Don’t twist yourself up about it.”

Rex stares at him incredulously. “How can you say that? Fox, those people attacked you  _ unprovoked _ .”

“Oh, they were definitely provoked by my jersey,” Fox tries to joke. Rex fixes him with a wounded look.

Fox sighs. “I say it’s fine because there’s nothing else  _ to _ say, Rex. Yeah, I got beat up, and I hurt like a motherfucker. But I can’t change any of that. Those people are long gone, and all I can do is pick myself up and keep going.”

Rex mulls those words over, tries to reconcile the levelheaded logic of them with his instinctive indignation. 

“I guess you’re right,” he says slowly.

Fox snorts. “Of course I’m right. I’m always right.” Ignoring Rex’s squawk of mock outrage, Fox tries to take his shirt off, grunting in pain when he has to lift his arms.

“Let me help you.” Rex hurriedly bats Fox’s hands away, ashamed he’s left Fox’s injuries untreated for so long. There’s dried blood caked on his face for fuck’s sake!

Between the two of them they manage to wrestle Fox’s shirt off. Rex sucks in a horrified breath at the extent of the bruising. Fox’s whole chest is a mottled patchwork of black and blue splotches.

“Is that a  _ bootprint _ ?”

Fox winces at Rex’s stricken look. “Probably. They did knock me down and kick me.”

Still a little shell-shocked by the extent of the damage his cousin suffered, Rex wets a washcloth and starts cleaning up the blood on his face. He murmurs apologies when he scrubs a little too roughly, Fox waving them off through gritted teeth.

The cut responsible for all the blood only needs a couple of butterfly bandages. He gently rubs ointment on the swollen cheekbone before moving on to the colorful tapestry that is Fox’s chest and abdomen.

“What happened to your phone? I tried calling but it kept going straight to voicemail.”

“Landed on it when I hit the ground. Shattered the screen,” Fox says shortly as Rex gently treats the scrapes littered among the bruises. He exhales slowly, trying to manage the pain.

Rex’s face tightens. “I’m sorry.” He wipes the ointment off his hands. “Take your pants off. You were limping earlier.”   
  


“Why’re you sorry? You didn’t beat me up,” Fox asks confused as he gingerly stands up, putting a hand on Rex’s shoulder for balance.

Rex focuses intently on working Fox’s pants off. “No, but I was the one who wanted to go to the game and thought we should wear our jerseys. So you getting hurt is my fault.”   
  


Shocked silence.

“Rex. Rex, look at me.”

A hand on his chin forces him to look up. He reluctantly meets Fox’s serious gaze. 

“Rex, I love you, but you’re a dumbass.”

“Hey!”

“No, really.  _ I _ bought the tickets because I knew you would’ve never bought them yourself.  _ I _ chose to wear the jersey because, newsflash, I’m a fan of the team too!” Rex opens his mouth to interrupt but is stopped by Fox rattling his chin. “It was just extremely bad luck.”

“Yeah, okay,” Rex mutters, not quite convinced. Fox seems to sense it because his gaze turns mischievous.

“Now get me some clean clothes. I don’t want to parade around naked. It might make you jealous of this smokin’ bod.”

Rex chokes on his spit, the absurdity of Fox’s statement robbing him of words.

Fox, the smug bastard, just grins wickedly at him, ruffling Rex’s blond hair. 

  
  


(They end up watching the game on TV, Fox buried under a veritable pile of ice bags, Rex curled into his side.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos greatly appreciated. :)
> 
>  **Permissions:** All my works, including this one, can be translated and podficced without first asking my express permission. I ask only that you credit me as the original author and provide a link back to the original work. For anything else, please ask first. Thanks.


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